Downfall
by uglyheartedhope
Summary: COMPLETE Virgil said that each of us bears his own hell, but what is to become of those who hide it from others, How well do we know those around us? HC slight CW
1. Chapter 1

So this is what life had for her. The cold ache of loneliness and the dull pain deep inside her stomach as she looks at herself in the mirror as she tries to work out who she is and what she is doing here. Her thoughts don't fall into neat categories any more. Instead they tumble over and over and over inside her head without a break

Without order

They turn and they twist at her heart like a knife

Whatever happened to her heart that it would rather be anywhere but inside her body. A beautiful situation for beautiful thoughts for ugly people. She knows pain. She knows loss.

And at the realisation of her heart breaking into splinters she turns, just reaching the toilet as she vomits up the little she has eaten today. Vodka and stomach acid burn at her throat, and she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns, but there is no one there.

That night she sleeps on the bathroom floor, enjoying every ache and every shiver that passes through her body. At least she doesn't feel her broken heart.


	2. Chapter 2

_Another dawn another day_. As Gregory House stands at his office window he scoffs at the people running around the hospital grounds for no good reason. The smiles on their faces seem inane from up here- a commercial for happy living. He likes these times in the morning when he is alone in his office- the ducklings won't bother him until Chase or Foreman arrives; whoever is last from sleeping off a hangover or coming across town from their latest conquest. This is his time, it is a comfortable order- Cameron will arrive first to do his mail, and he will arrive in between Chase and Foreman. It always works this way; he arrives late enough to let Cuddy know that he will do what he wants but early enough so she won't give him clinic hours.

It was such a perfect order of events early in the morning. It gave him a feeling of control in the chaos that was this hospital, and then someone had to ruin it. He had arrived this morning at the same time he usually did, but instead of seeing Cameron at the computer he just saw the empty chair. _Odd._ Cameron is nothing if not predictable and when something like this happens it sets the cogs whirring. An anomaly. It's what he lives for, and when he finds it he's like a dog with a toy, and he won't let it go.

He is torn from his reverie by Chase spitting out the coffee he has just made and grimacing.

"Eugh! This stuff tastes like crap! How does Cameron make it taste… well like coffee and not like crap!" His obvious displeasure causes House to smile inwardly; this is what he lives for.

Foreman breezes in without a word and sits down at the table knowing full well that he is late and not caring at all. Still no Cameron. Foreman breaks the silence with a cough and a pointed look

"So do we have a case or not?" His voice portrays the obvious disdain for his boss, and this is one of the reasons House likes him. No chance of him seeing House as anything other than his boss and this results in a tolerable working relationship.

"Yes we do _bro_. Couldn't let my homeboys down now could I!" He delights in Formans glare and turns towards the board to disguise his smile.

_That's enough of the deep thinking, it's time to get on with some work Cameron or no Cameron._

"We have a 38 year old female referred to us from Princeton General initially presenting with generic symptoms…aches and pains, the usual"

"So what brought her to your attention? With symptoms like that you would usually pack her up and send her home with orders for bed rest disguised in sarcastic jibes."

"Oh Foreman, you must be my long lost son, you know me so well"

"It takes a jerk to know a jerk…" Both men turned their glares on Chase "Guys, it was just a joke, really!"

"Your jokes suck Chase, don't bother. Leave them to the real men" House puffed up his chest and stood at mock attention, or as near as a man with a limp could get.

The three of them turn their attention back to the board with their newest patients symptoms staring back at them.

Martha Lewis- Age 38

Twitchiness

Slurring of speech

Headaches

Shortness of breath

Seizures

Joint pain

Foreman was the first to speak with a typically cynical solution "How about withdrawal…alcohol or opiates would do it…"

"How about Lymes disease?" That would explain some of the symptoms… no rash though, yet."

House consisered both ideas and wrote them up on the board. "Chase, check again for a rash. Foreman, do a full tox-screen and run an MRI, I'll get Wilson in to check for any signs of Cancer… and since Cameron isn't here to suggest it, let's throw in lupus. When you've done all the tests run an ANA, get the sedimentation rate, and yada yada yada…" Turning around to see Chase and Foreman still sitting there he glared.

"When I said run the tests I meant, like now" To emphasise his point he took his vicoden out of his pocket and popped one dry before turning around and turning on the tv in his office.

He could hear them mutterin through the glass doors, something about Cameron being sick today… Charming, she could at least have phoned in…unless... Right on cue Cuddy strode through the doors with the look of pure evil on her face which was so common these days. "Why Doctor Cuddy, how nice of you to drop in! I assume your early morning visit is for a little tete-a-tete" He hushed his voice conspiratorially "It might be best if the fun and games don't start till Foreman and Chase leave, got to keep it PG-13 for the young'uns"

"Don't play dumb with me House, what did you do this time? Cameron has asked for a few days off- something which she has never done, even when she may have had Aids" Cuddy was on a roll this morning, she had already busted the idiotic orderly's who kept leaving the doors to the roof open, and now she wanted Houses blood, metaphorically or otherwise.

"You're right as usual, I have done something to upset Cameron and I am going to make amends" The look on Cuddy's face was priceless, it took all of Houses strength to hold in the smug smile that was so near the surface.

"Uh…well good. See that you do….and you owe me 10 clinic hours this week" She turned on her Prada heel and left the room slightly bemused. _How had that been so easy… _She had a mystery on her hands, and she was going to find out what he had done.

House looked through the glass wall to see Chase and Foreman had gone to run the tests. _The results wont be in for another couple of hours…Just enough time to find out what's up with Cameron_.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ugh… I feel like crap….. Huh? Where am….oh…. bathroom….. _

It is a truth universally acknowledged that copious amounts of alcohol do not a good morning make- if only someone had reminded Allison Cameron of this fact before she ever drank she may have been spared the pain and embarrassment of a vengeful hangover.

In her college days she had gotten trashed with the rest of her friends, and always paid the price, but this was different; last night she had decided to drown her sorrows in the cheapest way possible- with a bottle of white and an old bottle of vodka she had found at the back of a cupboard. That was just sad, drinking alone until she felt more miserable than when she started and vomiting up all that she had drunk. _A doctor should know better_ she thought to herself, wincing at how loud her thoughts sounded within her head. Sleeping on the floor certainly hadn't helped matters, her neck felt like someone had put her in a headlock, and the side of her face was indented with lines from the tiles she had used as an impromptu pillow.

As she stumbled her way back into her bedroom her thoughts were of sleep and sleep alone, unfortunately upon getting comfortable and about to drift into an exhausted sleep she was uncomfortably reminded of the fact it was a Tuesday morning, and she should have been at work ten minutes ago. _Wonderful, if I phone the office House wil yell orl get suspicious and probably come round here and make as much noise as possible, Chase and Foreman will be all brotherly and fuss…_.she sighed, _Cuddy it is then…_She thanked her lucky stars as the answer machine picked up,

"Doctor Cuddy, its Allison Cameron here, I'm afraid I wont be able to come in today and maybe not tomorrow- I seem to have a bug, its probably best if I don't come in…urm…thanks, call me if there is a problem….I thought doctor house would be too busy to answer my call…Uh bye.." _Well that was smooth Allison she wond suspect a thing from that garbled message, you didn't even sound sick. _Her brain chastised her as she fell into a deep sleep, brought on by pure exhaustion.

Upon waking up for the second time that day Cameron was distinctly aware of an irritating and exceptionally insistent noise burrowing its way into her head. _Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang _She had heard this noise before, and just as the realisation of the unfortunate noise sunk in, the effect of gravity made itself well and truly known, leaving her enough time to get to the bathroom and empty her stomach once again. _Eurgh, I didn't think there was anything left after last night…_She flushed and stood at the sink washing her face and rinsing the acrid taste of vomit from her mouth. As she looked up into the mirror she shrieked and jumped back, narrowly missing a tumble into the bath _Well, that would have been great candid camera footage. _

As her brain struggled to regain control over the rest of the body and slow down her heart rate she became aware that the reflection had been that of House, the source of the noise. _Wonderful._

"Have you run out of patients houses to break into or are you just checking up on me?" Her voice sounded surprisingly hoarse to her own ears…_At least I sound ill…_

"I heard you in the process of emptying out your stomach. You could have choked, I was just making sure. Anyway the witch of all evil in the universe sent me, I was just following her orders…" Cameron wasn't in the mood for his sarcasm today, and his expression of a tortured slave wasn't going to help him at all.

"Sure, it was all Cuddy's idea. How did you get in here anyway?"

"A true magician never reveals his tricks…Credit card; you should get your landlord to check up on security around here" By now he was scrutinising both her and her apartment, checking for the sorts of clues that could tear a person apart.

"Well thank you so much for your concern Doctor House, I will be sure to let him know. Now if you would please leave before I call the police, and don't believe I wouldn't; there are so many excuses a pretty girl can use, even if she knows her attacker…" She let her voice trail off meaningfully whilst looking him dead in the eye, and for a fleeting moment she could have sworn she could have discerned something akin to respect deep in his eyes.

"Impressive Doctor Cameron, you seem to have grown a backbone overnight. This is fun." He took one last sweeping look over her before he turned to the door. "I expect you in tomorrow, no excuses. We have a case."

He sat in the high backed leather executives chair that he so envied waitin for the return of Boy-wonder oncologist. Upon hearing his footsteps he swung the chair so he was facing the wall and steepled his fingers. As Wilson approached the desk he turned slowly around so as not to startle him. Not yet anyway.

"Boo" Wilson jumped with an amusingly accurate two step usually reserved for flamenco dancers and matadors.

"Oh wonderful to have you back. Snooping done for now?" Wilsons voice was impatient.

"My my, isn't everyone snippy today"

"Yes it's the anti-House immunisation the nurses on the third floor have been cultivating for years, you really pushed them over the edge this time" House smirked at Wilson's attempt at snarky banter, grudgingly accepting that he was doing pretty well.

"I have a new patient"

"Yes I know, I checked her out, no trace of cancer, no family history. Done. Now can you go, some of us have important Doctor stuff to do."

"I don't mean that patient; I have an extra one…" The extra edge in Houses voice told Wilson that that this would be interesting, but not necessarily in a good way.

"Symptoms- Headache, Nausea, Sudden alcoholic tendencies, Isolation….."

"Cameron?"

"Exactamente….so what is so wrong with our lovely immunologist"

"If you ask me it's an overexposure to a certain Head of Diagnostics….and yes, that is my expert medical opinion." Wilson was eager to hurry this conversation up; he wasn't in the mood to deal with House once he had sunk his teeth into a case.


	4. Chapter 4

Gregory House was beginning to learn that he did not always have the power to force people into a particular action. Most learn this when they are children and no amount of screaming could make their mom buy them a new toy, but he was the exception. It was a fact that he came to acknowledge the older he got that people could be manipulated in every way possible. You just needed to find a chink in their armour and then kapow…it would be done.

Cameron had not come into work the next day, nor the day after that. His calls remained unanswered and his mail stacked up and up and up. The coffee went unmade- nobody but Cameron bothered, and House still didn't know where the sugar was kept. The remaining members of the team kept on with their case, Cuddy informed House that Cameron was taking a leave of absence and life went on, one dull day at a time.

In time they diagnosed the patient with aggressive Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis and gave her two to six months to live. Nobody mentioned her lack of family and nobody gave it much thought. When she caught an infection and died just a few days later she did so without anyone by her bedside, with no one holding her hand- just a nurse administering the drugs to reduce the last pain she would ever feel, and a doctor standing at the glass looking through the blinds at this frail woman fading away.

It was Wilson standing at the door, and unable to bear it any more he went in and sat down, gently taking her hand and reassuring her that it was going to be okay, that it would soon be over and he would not leave her. He is used to seeing people die, but not alone. He remembered the conversation he had with Cameron a while ago over Cindy, her terminal cancer patient. He had walked over to see how she was taking it, just to see the two of them laughing and joking like old friends. He had to tell her…she could take this with her every night

"_It's not your job to be her friend. Do you understand? And it's not worth it. She feels better her few final days, and you're not the same, maybe for years."_

"_You don't think it's worth it?" _Her voice was quiet. Measured. Her eyes spoke volumes of what she was feeling, held back tears and pent up rage that this was yet another life she couldn't save.

"_I know it's not worth it." _He kept his voice calm and steady, as if to keep this point in the air. So she would see that this isn't the way.

"_My husband…. I met him just after he was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. If I hadn't married him, he was alone. When a good person dies, there should be an impact on the world. Somebody should notice. Somebody should be upset." _He never knew about her husband. He had figured her for a nice-waiting for the right man kind of girl, with a bedroom at home filled with pictures of wedding dresses and baby names. He had seen what cancer, like her husband had suffered, did to a person and those around them. It destroyed them, and yet this beautiful woman had built herself back up and made herself into a new person.

The monitor slowed to a slow beep and flat lined. He turned it off immediately- there was no need for a code. She wasn't going to come back with one fighting breath. He noted a single tear on her cheek, the result of the loosening muscles around her eyes, and wiped it with his thumb. His final act of comfort that he could give this woman who had no one else.

"Patient Martha Lewis. Time of death 1.31 am." He spoke softly so that only the attending nurse could hear. She had returned to the room silently, as if intuitively knowing that there was now a bed free. That's all the sick were to some people. Bed space.

As he left the room he felt the weariness he had been holding back all day settle in on him

"She gone?" Houses voice cut in to the silence that was emanating from the threshold of the room.

"Its over now, yes." His voice sounded tired to his own ears, he needed sleep and the couch in his office was looking more tempting by the minute.

"She didn't have cancer. She wasn't even remotely related to you or your department except through me…So why were you the one to hold her hand?" Houses voice was soft but insistent, the curiosity showing in every word.

"Cameron isn't here" That was it as far as he was concerned, and he walked away towards his office. "I have some papers to finish up, I wont need the couch tonight" He didn't look back as he made the familiar walk to his office, looking through doors as he passed. _How many of these people will die alone?_

Unbeknownst to Wilson, House had stood outside Martha Lewis' room for a good ten minutes after Wilson had left, until the men came to take her body away. He did not look at the body, he didn't need to- instead he looked down at his cane, deep in thought before turning and heading for the exit.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I know my chapters are quite short but as compensation I tend to post two at a time, or quite quickly, reviews appreciated.

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"_You have reached the office of Doctor Lisa Cuddy. If you would leave a message after the tone along with your name and a contact number then we will get back to you as soon as possible."_

Beep.

"Doctor Cuddy this is Allison Cameron. I am calling you to confirm the details of my leave of absence. I know we discussed this and I am really just calling to say that I would like to have the full month as you suggested, I have been invited to talk at the annual immunology conference in San Diego, and another in Texas, so I would like to clear my agenda in preparation. On a more important note tell House that the sugar is in the left hand cupboard behind the animal crackers, I imagine that he is unbearable without it. Thank you once again, and see you on my return."

Beep.

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Three weeks had passed with no exciting cases for the team, and House was bored. He was so bored in fact that he was voluntarily spending time in the clinic, which would have been good had he not been reducing them to tears as a matter of course. The last clinic patient of the day had just left the room and House made a bee line to his office, with the single minded intent of relaxing for a few minutes and playing on his game boy.

"House!" He grimaced as he heard the slightly insane tone of Doctor Cuddy made its way across the room, followed quickly by the woman herself.

"Why Doctor Cuddy, I must say that is a stunning top you're wearing. Really lets them breathe doesn't it..."

"Nice, but your bare faced lechery isn't going to get you anywhere. You have a new case." She handed him the file and turned around.

"But mommy, I've got so much homework to do!" He turned to see Cuddy's retreating form and rolled his eyes. He flicked open the file _boring…there has go to be something better for me to do than this…_

As he reached his office he noticed a new medical journal piled up on top of the precariously stacked mail. _Well I have noting better too do..._

As he flicked through the journal he noticed a familiar name, _Well I never…_

_Doctor Allison Cameron- _**_Systemic lupus erythematosus: Dealing with idiopathic auto- immune diseases in everyday life._**

The article was interesting and to the point, but seemed so un- Cameron. There was no ethical debating over rights to treatment or the importance of a support structure for the patients and their family. Even odder was the inset at the bottom of the last page of the essay; which informed the reader that Doctor Cameron had recently participated in two medical conferences which had been received ecstatically by scholars nationwide. _Fascinating…_He studied the small picture, predictably included to advertise that you could be in medicine and be beautiful; the first noticeable thing was how frail she looked. It was difficult to tell from such a small photo, but he could definitely see her collar bones more than usual. The photo had been taken while she was on stage and it seemed that she looked tired, no exhausted. To anyone else she would have just looked like a slightly skinny but beautiful, young female doctor, but House had been observing her since she began working for him.

"We got your page, what's up? Do we have a new case?" It was Foreman's voice that shook him from his thoughts, and he left his office. He tossed the journal onto the meeting table and turned to the board.

"New patient, diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis six months ago, but is having complications, palpitations, rashes, loss of sensation, the like…"

"Could be something systemic"

"Fibromyialgia?"

"How about lupus?" A voice broke in from the doorway.

"Cameron, hey!" Chase sounded like a puppy dog happy to see its master once again.

"Nice of the _famous_ Doctor Cameron to join us again. Was Texas too hot, or did you just miss us? Yes I saw the article…"

"You read the journal?" Her voice was disbelieving though with a trace of amusement.

"Hey, what article?" It was Foreman this time, his own voice showing a hint of incredulity.

"It's on the table in front of you home-boy, if you hadn't been so interested in my cane you would have seen it"

"Now are we gong to solve this case or what? Chase get an MRI, Cameron blood tests, Foreman…well do whatever it is you do, got it? Good. Go"

Cameron was the last to leave the room and as she turned she could have sworn she heard the gruff voice of her boss say "Welcome back"


	6. Chapter 6

Over her years in medicine, Cameron had found that the lab was one of the best places to think. Although she loved the general insanity that every case came with she was always happy to come and run tests through, undisturbed by everyone. _Well nearly everyone_.

Every time she heard the sound of his cane tapping across the polished floor her stomach tensed up and her shoulders froze. He was either going to berate her, tease her or question her; the outcome of which would never be good.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed…" Cameron couldn't get a read on his voice and decided to take the neutral route

"I don't know what you are talking about" He moved closer to her, so close in fact that she swore she could feel his breath on her cheek. He knew exactly how to intimidate her, by manipulating her feelings for him- coming so close but staying so far away at the same time.

"Bypassing my authorisation on that new paper you wrote, getting your old supervisor to do so could be seen as mistrust of your current boss"

"I did what I had to do to get it published…giving it to you was a mistake, so I started afresh. It wasn't a case study, it was to do with my speciality, and therefore it won't put the Diagnostics department in a bad light."

He was amazed at the flatness of her voice. Usually when he had her in a corner (figuratively or literally) she couldn't hide the little 'tells' that made him fortunes in poker games. Hers were simple, a rabbit caught in headlights look, a darting glance to the door and a retreat to the lab or some other private hideaway. Today was different- something had changed since she had been away, and it irritated him that he couldn't put his finger on it. Her poker face was nearly as good as his, unwavering and unnerving, but the thing with poker faces is that they nearly always have a crack. He just needed to find the crack and he could split it wide open.

"Okay. Just checking. Carry on." He looked her over once more and turned to leave

"I wonder if Foreman appreciates the fact that I got published in a more well known journal than him, its funny isn't it how things turn out? Never the way you expect. One person's action can change everything. It's a make or break situation isn't it House" Her voice was softer now, but unlike anything he had heard before- it was danger disguised in that soft exterior that everyone saw. The smile on her face wasn't the usual Cameron brand of 'smiles can save the world' instead it was darker, more knowing and world wise than he would have ever pictured. House had a niggling thought in the back of his head that maybe he had misjudged Allison Cameron after all.

The puzzle was far from solved.

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House was brooding over a Rueben looking more despondent than usual, as Wilson walked into the cafeteria. Walking over to his friend he considered his general demeanour and surmised that it had more to do with Cameron coming back than with the patient.

"So, wanna share?" House looked up surprised at Wilsons interruption and narrowed his eyes. Wilson recognised this as a danger sign but refused to back off. "Its just that your exuding toxic levels of irritation with the world, and as you can see no one wants to be near the crazy man with a cane"

This itself was true House noted with amusement. There was a noticeable lack of lunchers at the table around him; in fact it looked like a party at the other end of the room.

"Yeah, all they need is a few balloons and a keg of beer then they would be sorted…" Looking up to see the complete confusion on Wilson's face cheered him up somewhat- sometimes it seemed like Wilson could read his thoughts and he was just glad this wasn't completely true.

"Never mind, I don't want to know what goes on inside your head…" Wilson mock shuddered drawing yet another glare from his friend.

It was House that next broke the long silence; however Wilson noted something in his voice which he hadn't heard for a while- confusion.

"Everybody lies, but usually only one lie or one secret at a time… When someone is hiding something, you can tell from the start, and it's only a matter of time before you find out what it is. The thing is, once you uncover the lie that person is exposed completely- sometimes the lie or secret is just scar tissue, built up when they suffer a cut to themselves in order to protect what is left of them. They cover up when they have been broken and get that scar tissue in place so the world can see it and forget. I know _you_ have. Every divorce leaves you with that scar tissue, and every marriage removes it when you no longer feel the need to protect yourself. This is a general rule, only once every so often a person is so broken that they never get rid of that scar tissue, and it's not enough to protect them forever, so the scar tissue gets scar tissue et cetera, et cetera"

He broke for thought, and Wilson didn't interrupt knowing well that his friend was trying to talk out his train of thought in order to understand something.

"The strange thing is, there comes a point when all the secrets and all the lies can no longer be contained in the scar tissue, and you become numb to nearly everything as it implodes……" He looked up at Wilson as if looking for help

"I assume that this isn't just about you?" His downcast eyes gave him the clue that he needed, and so he continued

"Maybe you finally found someone more broken than you."


	7. Chapter 7

She was so glad to get out into her apartment after the long day she had spent at the hospital. The worst thing was that she knew it had been a regular day like every other- she had not been sent to break into a patients home or been told to question them about their relationships, but she had been getting strange looks from people and swore that they were gossiping about her for some strange reason. In the end Cameron had gone to the bathroom, certain that there must be something wrong with her hair or her clothes or _something_, but had looked in the mirror and seen nothing other than herself looking back, with immaculate hair as ever. Confident that she was overreacting she went back to work, subconsciously pulling her trousers up a little as she left.

Now, in the solitude of her own apartment she still could not understand what the problem was. _Probably surprised that I came back after my break. I bet everyone thought I had caved in under the pressure._ She laughed grimly to herself, knowing that this was entirely possible. She started rummaging through her fridge trying to find something to prepare for dinner, aware of the fact she wasn't at all hungry but knowing that her body needed nourishment. _Nothing_. She came up empty handed, and instead popped a few vitamin pills to compensate for what she didn't eat, and grabbed a Red Bull and a bottle of vodka out of the cupboard.

Just as she had settled down at her computer there was a knock at the door, followed a few second later by a series of loud raps which signalled one thing. _House._ _Perfect_. She opened the door, just as he was raising his cane for another barrage of knocks

"House, what are you doing?"

"I left my credit card and skeleton keys in the car, so I thought I'd knock this time" His voice held its normal sarcastic humour but she was sure she could sense something behind it, as if he was testing the waters.

Without waiting for an invitation he limped past her and into the apartment. Dipping her head with an angry resignation she closed the door, but stood facing it for few seconds, gathering her thoughts and deciding on a plan of action. She turned, and placed a suitably cheerful smile on her face before she spoke

"What can I do for you Doctor House, has there been any change in the patient?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, seemingly surprised at her change in attitude from this morning. The smile was still on her face as he scrutinised her and her surroundings, taking in the vodka on the kitchen side, as well he vitamin pills and the bin next to her desk containing a number of empty energy drink cans. He took in her appearance and raised his eyebrows slightly; the protrusion of her collar bone had grown even more pronounced than from the picture in the journal, as had the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin

"Would you like a coffee?" Her light and airy voice was grating on her own nerves as he gave a simple nod, and she turned to the kitchen. House noticed that subconscious hitching of the trousers again as she turned away from him, and he followed her into the kitchen.

He made a show of reading the label of the vodka bottle that was nearly empty,

"Vlanivird, how very Russian of you…. Bit early in the day though isn't it?" Cameron noticed the light sarcasm in his voice, but also the note of seriousness that it held

"Firstly, it's six pm and I've had a long day. Secondly, a little hypocritical wouldn't you say? From the man who keeps a bottle of whiskey in his _office_..."

"Ouch, touché."

"So anyway, the ANA came back positive, but the sedimentation rate wasn't high enough for a definitive solution, so id like to do a nerve biopsy….I still think its lupus though, Chase told me that she had freckles, but her skin tone isn't the type for them, so maybe it's a lighter version of malar- it is in the right place. Also from her medical history she was diagnosed with asthma years ago so I'd like to check into that…. Can you pass me the milk from the fridge please?"

He complied, turning to the fridge and opening it, aware that she was still talking. He was a little shocked to discover that her fridge was practically empty, save a couple of Budweiser's and the universal stash of jarred goods that everyone had but no one ate, instead leaving them for all eternity. He picked up the milk, noting its curdled appearance on the side of the plastic bottle

"Uh Cameron, your milk is like four days out of date"#

"Oh…I haven't done the shopping yet…Black coffee it is then." She handed him the mug nonchalantly and walked out to the lounge area sitting down o the couch facing him. He joined her, propping his cane up against the arm. He didn't speak; instead he chose to stare her down

"So, does Foreman still think it's a tumour?"

"MRI was clean" He hadn't come here to talk about the tests, but it was giving him chance to observe her and discover what she might be hiding. The two of them had settled into a peaceful silence when both beepers went of simultaneously, shocking them from their thoughts.

"Patients seizing, we gotta go. New symptom" His voice was back to business as she grabbed her coat.

"Seizures are the eight diagnostic criteria. Its lupus" He ignored her as they headed for their separate cars.

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Cameron arrived a few minutes after House to be greeted by a smile from Chase, and a curt nod from Foreman causing her to smirk internally. _He's sore about the article. Serves him right._

House emerged from his office with the patients file. Okay we know this much, patient started seizing and was given Carbamazepine. This controlled the seizures but patient has now been observed hallucinating, and her red cell count has dropped. One or both new symptoms may be a result of the Carbamazepine or the underlying condition.

Cameron's voice was the first to break in

"It has to be lupus; I still think we should consider the nerve biopsy befor pumping her full of useless drugs"

"It isn't lupus. It's never lupus- you only say that because you're an immunologist and it's all you know" Foreman's voice was harsher than necessary, but if Cameron was hurt or upset by it she sure as hell wasn't showing it.

"Whatever, I'm going to go and talk to the patient and find out about this asthma she has" With that she got up and left the room, with Chase and House watching her as she left. Foreman still had his eyes on the board

"That was a bit harsh don't you think?" Chase looked a little surprised at what Foreman had just said "First you go on about you not being her friend, and now insulting her medical ability? What is it with you two?"

"Oh, I think our Foreman is a little jealous, because Cameron's article got published in a better journal than his, not to mention the calls Cuddy has been receiving about her conferences" Houses voice was amused.

"She went behind your back too. You didn't authorise it! How many people do you think she slept with to get it authorised and published?"

Houses eyes narrowed dangerously, and Foreman wasn't stupid enough to admit he had stepped over the line with that comment and he was quick to speak before House did.

"Look, all I'm saying is that there are rules for a reason, and what she did was wrong. That's all." He turned and left the room, brushing past a curious Wilson who had been listening at the door. Chase followed silently to go and run some tests, knowing that this wasn't the best time to talk.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hi Mrs Braith, my name is Allison Cameron, I'm another member of Dr Houses team. How are you feeling today?

"A little tired, but otherwise okay considering how I have been, and call me Dawn." Cameron noticed that she spoke with a strain in her voice, as if talking troubled her.

"Okay Dawn, I am going to ask you a few questions, some of which may seem a little odd, okay?" She made sure her voice was light and breezy so she didn't instil any worry in her patient.

"How long ago were you diagnosed with asthma?"

"About four years ago, the doctor gave me inhalers and steroids, but it wasn't that bad until recently, so he re prescribed me pred… something…"

"Prednisone?" The patient nodded in affirmation. "Okay, now for the weird question….have you always had freckles?" Dawn looked at her confused.

"Um…no, I think it's just an age thing, you know, too much sun when I was younger" She sounded a little nervous at the sudden apparent change in topic.

"Okay, that's fine, ill be back to see you soon." Cameron kept the smile on her face until she turned around to leave the room and then let it fall.

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House was sat in the clinic with the new season's copy of playboy when Wilson poked his head round the door. The thing Wilson found most amusing was the fact that he was lost in thought, despite having the magazine on his lap, and there was only one possible reason. He knew Greg House better than anybody, and could see beyond his fierce exterior, and into his slightly less fierce interior. _He's lost in the puzzle_. He was about to turn and leave the room when House spoke.

"She's smart, young and beautiful. She smiles and offers comfort to everyone. She probes people to get to the root of their problems, but what do we actually know about her other than the obvious?" Wilson moved into the room, intrigued at where House was leading.

"We know she married young, to a dying man…… She doesn't like telling patients that they are going to die, though she knows what it is like to be in that position, so maybe that's not such a mystery…..She is not an only child…..She tries to find out how people are feeling emotionally as well as physically….We all assumed that she was just over empathising with the patients and being invasive with co-workers, but by doing this she has hidden herself."

He was on to something and he knew it. It's an act, it's all an act.

"Cameron isn't half way as open as she would like us to believe, it's just taken me this long to realise that. What better way to hide yourself than being innocent and contrite. She is playing a part, and we are the audience- she has manipulated all of us into seeing her as weak, but I cant work out why…" He trailed off, his gaze on Wilson intense and confused. Satisfied that House had finished Wilson spoke.

"We all create an identity for ourselves, dependant on how we want others to see us. It is the only way we can protect ourselves from the world around us, but usually it is transparent enough for the people who care about you to see through- almost like looking through shield of coloured glass- a person may appear one colour, but you know they are another. The question is do you really want to risk breaking down a shield in order to satisfy your curiosity? Are you willing to say you are prepared for what you might find? If you ever wanted my advice then this is the time to listen- There is a reason for everything and it's not always pretty. Cameron has walls up in order to protect her for a reason, so before you go tearing them down remember that _you_ are the same. She has managed to hide from you this far, so what makes you think she wont be the one breaking through _your_ shield."

House knew he was right and he nodded thoughtfully, as Wilson left the room giving one last look at his friend. As he walked back towards his office he considered the letter he had received this morning from the nearby hospice for terminal patients. Cindy Kramer, Cameron's terminal patient had died in her sleep and they were forwarding both Wilson and Cameron letters written by the deceased. He had put them in his desk drawer and was waiting for the right moment to give Cameron hers which was significantly thicker than his. As he walked past the diagnostics room he saw Cameron sitting with a cup of coffee at the computer

"Doctor Cameron, can you come to my office in about five minutes?" He smiled showing that she wasn't in any trouble, but she looked confused- even a little resigned, as if she knew what was coming.

Wilson straightened out his desk and took the two letters out of the drawer. His was simple- it said how much she had appreciated the work of the Oncology department during her short stay, nothing too personal, but he realised Cameron's relationship with the patient had turned into a friendship- another life ending in tragedy.

As she came into the room she scrutinized Wilson's posture. He was hunched over slightly as if trying to decide on a course of action and obviously hadn't heard her enter.

"Doctor Wilson?" He jumped slightly in his chair, and offered a half smile

"Sit, please." He indicated the chair opposite his desk "Um I got a letter this morning from Loside hospice- I'm afraid Cindy passed away… I know this must be hard for you considering your relationship with her, but I wanted to tell you in person…" Cameron held her hand up, cutting him off, smiling as she did so

"I know…I was there when she died, she wasn't in any pain. She asked me to thank you….I know you warned me about getting emotionally involved with a patient, but I did, and I don't regret it." Her voice was sad, but her eyes seemed….lifeless….Wilson leaned forward and presented her with the letter

"The hospice sent us these letters that she wrote before she died…If you need to talk…?" She stood carefully looking him dead in the eye

"Thanks Wilson, but I'll be fine. I'm gonna go read this, if House asks….?" He nodded at her unasked question

"I'll tell him you're in the clinic and he won't go down to check" She smiled at him and left.

Wilson watched her go. He was starting to see what House was talking about. She looked ill- thin and drawn. He told himself it was purely out of concern rather than a perverted curiosity as he sent out a page for House.


	9. Chapter 9

_My friend, Allison._

_I know we did not know each other long, but I consider you a true friend. This is really a letter to thank you for all that you did for me, but now I start I can't think what to write. There is so much I want to say, but my mind can't form the words._

_When I was younger I used to dream about growing up more than I did about movie stars or boy bands- there was so much I wanted to do, but put off doing, and now it is too late. I can't tell you how much it hurts but I think you already know._

_I know you're hurting Allison, and I want you to know that it's okay to feel and be unprotected. I guess I should probably start quoting REM or something, and tell you "everybody hurts", but I can't stand clichés. I am not going to cry over my fate, that has already been done- Doctor Kubler-Ross would be proud, and I don't want you to cry either. I know I said I'd avoid cliché, but this is important. It is a poem by Christina Rosetti, you may know it, and it is important that you read it_

_Remember me when I am gone away,  
Gone far away into the silent land;  
When you can no more hold me by the hand,  
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.  
Remember me when no more day by day.  
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:  
Only remember me; you understand  
It will be late to counsel then or pray.  
Yet if you should forget me for a while  
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:  
For if the darkness and corruption leave  
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,  
Better by far you should forget and smile  
Than that you should remember and be sad._

_It will hurt, and you will cry, but remember that you are alive. Change comes for a reason- embrace it and you will find happiness._

_All my love,_

_Cindy._

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Cameron put down the letter and unfolded the rest of the paper that had come inside her envelope. She recognised the formal heading instantly; it was a photocopy of an official document- Cindy's will. She read through it, sadly noting that she had put aside enough money for a funeral and had specified that she wished to be cremated and her ashes scattered in water. _No one should have to arrange their own funeral_. As she continued reading she noted the largest item in the document

'The entirety of the funds from Ms Kramer's estate and all monies possessed by the deceased is to de donated to the Oncology department at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, New Jersey.'

Cameron smiled sadly to herself, leaning back in her chair. Cindy was dying and still thinking about others. She noticed a tiny hand written comment on the photocopy and squinted to read it. It simply said 'Give others a future, and I will be satisfied'

She took a deep breath as she stood, and folded the letter in her pocket as she headed off to find Wilson once again to tell him of the good news. _Well, bittersweet news._


	10. Chapter 10

A/N:- Seriously, thanks for the reviews, they're great inspiration to keep going!

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Cameron decided to put off telling Wilson about the donation for the moment, and instead went back to the diagnostics room to write a report on the patient so she could get her thoughts in order. It was definitely Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, it was just a case of convincing the others.

She spoke softly to herself as she wrote, so quietly it was almost a mumble "Malar or butterfly rash present over nose, lighter than usual, but definitely not a case of skin pigmentation. ANA was positive indicating a simulated immune system. Blood tests revealed anti-phospholid antibodies present in body, as well as a low white cell count."

House walked into the room eyeing her suspiciously

"Doctor Cameron, I think you are proof to say that Clinic duty makes people insane. You were talking to yourself. Why?"

"It's lupus. All the tests are indicative of Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, but I am concerned at her temperature. She is having sweats, which could mean Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma- patients with Lupus are more susceptible to this even without immunosuppressant drugs…" He broke in with a typically House remark

"Yes I _also_ went to medical school…" Cameron just looked at him blankly and continued her speech, completely nonplussed by the interruption.

"Anyway, I think we need to get Wilson to do a biopsy of her Lymph node- at least then we can tell her if she is going to die." House looked slightly shocked at her un-Cameron like comment, completely disregarding the possibility of the patient's death. Cameron got up, deciding that this would be the best time to go and see Wilson about both matters at hand- her patient and Cindy's will.

"Doctor Cameron, it has come to my attention that you have been rather distant recently. I need to know if it is affecting your job."

"I think the diagnosis of the patient proves that my job is not being affected by anything, nor is there anything that is affecting me" She spoke coldly, looking him dead in the eye.

"Okay then, go run your tests…" She had turned to leave before he had finished speaking, but turned to him as she was at the door

"You can't push people away, and not expect them to be distant. Laws of physics House. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Don't expect Physics to change just because you want them to." With this cryptic remark she left the room, her heels clicking on the polished floor, leaving him standing there looking at where her shadow had previously been cast.

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"Doctor Wilson?" She poked her head round the door for the second time that day to see him still sat at his desk. "I thought this might interest you, its Cindy's will"

He took it from her thoughtfully, not really understanding what it could have to do with him. His eyes alighted on the passage specifying her donation to the Oncology department and his eyebrows rose.

"She left it all to the hospital" Cameron's voice was steady, but emotionless. "$700,000 to save lives. She knew there was no place she would rather it was spent."

"This is….well this…" He was speechless. Usually money only came from the wealthy, looking to have a ward dedicated to them and for it to be publicly heralded. Occasionally the family of the deceased or cured would donate small amounts of money as a thank you, but never this large an amount. He looked at her curiously- he would have expected her to have tears in her eyes, and making a speech about the importance of the patients, but there was nothing.

"That wasn't the only reason I came to see you…Could you do a lymph node biopsy on Dawn Braith, all tests for lupus have been positive, but she is also showing symptoms of Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma"

"Sure, how old is she?" Cameron tilted her head slightly, and looked a little lost

"I…don't know… its all in her file though" She stood to leave.

"Cameron….If you ever need to talk…I'm here. You know that right?" His voice was kind and gentle, and part of her wanted to relax in his company and tell him her problems, but she knew she couldn't. Not yet.


	11. Chapter 11

The mirror called to her. She stood in front of it and considered what she saw with a detached air, for what she saw she did not recognise. As she fingered the hem of the blouse she was wearing the image did likewise, mocking her. Pulling it over her head she is protected, but vulnerable one second later as it falls to the floor with barely a sound. Once again she observes the stranger in the glass, mirroring its movements. The slim boned hand feels its way across the stomach, concave and pale. It rises up, to touch the ribs through the skin one by one by one by one. It moves past the breasts to the collar bone which protrudes alarmingly from the frame. A flawed design. The indented skin at the shouders creates a hollow, as the bones rise up- trying to escape the confines of the body.

Falling down the strangers hands undo the trousers which hang too low upon the hips- they do not need further encouragement and they drop to the floor to pool around the ankles. The hands run across the sharp point of bone, almost as if it has been carved from marble.

What is this strange creature who stands naked, unaware, unconcerned? Allison reaches out to this sad person, with shadows cast across a marble face. She touches glass and tips of fingers are touching hers, as cold as ice. As cold as death. She gasps, seeing the expression mirrored. She has felt death and it had broken her. Now it taunted her with this stranger in front of her eyes.

"_For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."_

Ironic. Her thoughts should be of a bible passage. Just a book. Just a book. When she was in med school she had read the bible, and people always questioned her- "You're an atheist. You can't read that". She could, and she did. Reading it like any other book- appreciating the poetry and lyricism of the words written so long ago. She found comfort in these words, but it was just a book like any other. There was no God that she believed in, but the power of words was a force comparable to none.

"_When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."_

Forced to grow up before her time. Taking on the role of student, wife, doctor, comforter. Mourner.

The face in the mirror taunted her.

The glass shattered

Allison could see the shatters laughing, as they caught the light, an eye, an ear.

She closed her eyes and stood amongst discarded clothes and shards of mirror. A bitter laugh which seemed to come from the ruins.

The stranger mocking her

The blood dripped from her hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Cameron smiled at the nurses who were enjoying the morning sun on the way in. They exchanged morning greetings, and all were on they're way to begin another day. People she hardly knew smiled at her as she walked to the office, and she returned each one with as sincere a smile as she could muster. The muscles in her cheeks implored her to stop and return to a natural position, but she ignored them and continued on her way looking like the cheerful Cameron everyone knew and loved. At that thought she struggled to hide the mirthless laugh that was bubbling up from her dark centre, threatening to spill out and overwhelm her.

_Know me, love me._

The diagnostics office was mercifully empty when she arrived, and she set about her usual routine with the mail and the coffee. It was this routine that numbed her- for a short time she was in control of her own private fiefdom. Her brown leather gloves grazed the stack of paper on the desk; all these people hoping, wishing for a miracle. A year ago she would have cared, pressed House to take the dying child or the lonely woman. Not now. Today she opened the letters and scanned them for the most obscure symptoms, ones the team would enjoy. More importantly ones that meant non-stop work all hours of the day; if she didn't have time to herself then she didn't have time to feel. Once this case was over then she would have to go home to the bleak emptiness that was her life; no amount of decoration and light could lift the dark shadows that descended around her as she stepped out of the hospital. _This is my life now_.

It was Foreman who arrived first today, and for this she was grateful- Chase would have tried to make conversation, whereas Foreman would not think to initiate any kind of discussion. It was sad in a way. Foreman had often acted as a protector, feeling the need to defend her from House. Apparently that was not a sign of him looking out for her but instead looking out for himself. Keeping friends close but enemies closer. His words had stung her deep to the core a few months ago, but now they were just floating around in her mind- no emotions stirred up by the thought of them

_"Ten years from now, we're not gonna be hanging out, having dinners. Maybe we'll exchange Christmas cards, say "Hi," give a hug if we're at the same conference...we're not friends, we're colleagues...and I don't have anything to apologize for."_

It didn't matter. She had gained her revenge by getting her article published in a better journal and he knew it; everyone did. She swore Cuddy winked at her when she returned- in any case revenge was her idea. The only unfortunate thing was that she didn't feel any pleasure in knowing she had done so and also didn't feel any regret, and so it seemed wasted on her. She shook the thoughts off, returning her attention to the mail.

House limped in just as the coffee brewed; it was almost as if he had a sixth sense when it came to food and caffeine. He poured it and cast his eyes over his two present employees narrowing his eyes when he realised that it was Chase who had "car trouble" today, he would make him pay for it later. In the meantime he could observe the other two as they carried on with what they were doing. He didn't fail to notice the fact that Cameron was still wearing her gloves. Such an anomaly peaked his curiosity- it was pleasant outside and warm in here.

"Cold, Doctor Cameron?" His tone held his typical morning sarcasm, he hadn't been forced to do clinic duty yet so his mood was stable. Cameron turned her face to him but kept her eyes trained on the mail in front of her.

"No" House still hadn't got used to this flat tone that she had developed, along with the fact she no longer looked terrified when he picked on her so early in the morning.

"You're still wearing your gloves" His tone was matter of fact, gauging her emotional state, pressing buttons gently to see if they would give.

"Yes I am" Again her voice was neutral. Disinterested. She continued. "Wilson is going to do get the results of Mrs Braiths biopsy this morning, so I told Cuddy I would help out in the clinic until he was done. I should be going now."

She stood up and headed for the door, not waiting for permission. She turned at the threshold

"Can you remind Wilson to page me" With that she was gone, brushing past the tardy Chase by the doorway. House decided he wasn't in the mood for belittling Chase about being late- he had a puzzle to solve with half the pieces missing.

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Cameron had nearly half an hour before her first patient arrived, so she entered a clinic room searching for the things she needed in the cupboards and laying them out on the trolley. _Sutures, wipes, gauze, dressing, pre threaded needle, anaesthetic… _She had stupidly injured her right hand, which meant stitching up the cuts with her left. _This could be interesting. _She removed her glove, noting with distaste the blood soaked dressing she had hastily applied last night. The cuts were deep, and her simple steri-strips alone wouldn't hold them together. Pulling the trolley to her she brought it between her legs and rested her hand on the table. She winced as she cleaned the hand and clumsily injected anaesthetic into the cuts, waiting for it to take effect.

As she picked up the needle and lowered it to her skin there was a knock on the door, causing her to jab her skin in shock. She muttered a curse, hoping the invader would take the hint and go away. There was no second knock and Cameron let out the breath she had unconsciously once again concentrating on the matter at hand.

She concentrated on keeping her hand steady as she made the first cross-stitch; it wasn't as tidy as she could have done with her right hand but she had little choice.

The knock sounded again and she froze as the door opened.


	13. Chapter 13

He sighed as he read the piece of paper in front of him, he had his newest patient. The tests had confirmed it: Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma Stage IIB. He would be putting yet another person through the physical and mental torture of radiotherapy and chemotherapy, more than likely at the same time considering the severity of her condition. _Wonderful_. He had to tell Cameron, they needed to break the news to Mrs Braith and start her treatment as soon as possible. He couldn't help wondering how Cameron was going to react. She had been so…distant recently. He left his office and entered the diagnostics room just to see House in his office lying on the floor with his legs up on a chair.

"House, I need to find Cameron, is she with the patient?" House sat up noticing the businesslike tone in Wilson's voice

"I'm guessing its not good news then?"

"Aggressive Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma….we need to break the news and start treatment….So Cameron is…?" He let the question trail off waiting for House to offer a response.

"Aww Jimmy's got a new friend and doesn't wanna play with Greg" He pouted and crossed his arms like a petulant child. Wilson wasn't surprised; in fact this was just what he needed to distract himself from the seriousness of what he had to do. He let himself be drawn into the game.

"Well I think its time we cooled off, you know, started seeing other people…as much as I love these play dates I have other big kid stuff to do" House smirked at Wilson's reply. It was talk like this which fed the rumour mill about their relationship, and there was nothing better than people gossiping about rubbish; how the Boy-Wonder Oncologist and the cantankerous Diagnostician were having an illicit relationship, utilising storage cupboards for their sordid acts.

"Anyway, as much as I'm loving this tete-a-tete I really need to find Cameron"

"Clinic" Wilson looked surprised. He would have expected Cameron to be organising the lupus treatment or at least running labs, but the clinic this early in the day wasn't busy enough to need an extra doctor. He shook his head, it really didn't matter why she was there, and he needed to see her so he turned on his heel and left saying

"Why don't you get mommy to phone your friend in book keeping? I'm sure that would be fun" He smirked at Houses glare and left to find the elusive immunologist.

As predicted the clinic was practically empty when he arrived; just the usual mix of hypochondriacs and minor injury sufferers. House was right; most of the ailments they saw could be diagnosed by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin. He smiled at the receptionist as he went in. Young and pretty, she was just his type. Unfortunately for him she was married and a devout Catholic as he had learnt as he flirted with her on her first shift.

"Hey Carla, is Doctor Cameron down here?" He gave his trademark boyish grin and she ducked her head giggling slightly, turning pink at the cheeks. _You've still got it man..._

"Yes Doctor Wilson, Exam 3" He thanked her, flashing a smile at her as he walked towards the room, _there's no harm in looking… _He knocked on the door but heard no response. He walked back over to the reception desk just to check he had it right

"Are you sure it's Exam 3?"

"Yes Doctor Wilson, is there a problem?" She smiled coyly at him, and he decided if Cameron had a patient in there she would need a few minutes to finish up.

"No, no problem at all. How are you anyway? How's your husband…Michael is it?" He really couldn't care less about her husband, but liked watching her laugh like a teenager with a silly crush.

"He's fine, we both are…" She leaned forward to him, and he leaned in so close he could smell her floral perfume "Do you want to know a secret?" He nodded

"I'm gonna have a baby!" Her excitement was clear, but it wasn't thoroughly shared by Wilson, _aww crap…never mind_.

"That's great, really great!" He put on the most enthusiastic voice he could muster, while his inner voice laughed at him for his idiocy.

"But sshh, it's a secret remember, no one else knows!" She giggled again, but the effect on Wilson had worn off, he smiled

"Well congratulations, if you need anything you know where I am!" He nodded at her and returned to the door of Exam 3, knocking once again. Still no answer, but he swore he heard something metal drop. He pushed open the door, poking his head around and was shocked to see Cameron sat there preparing to do a surgical procedure on her own hand.

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After the initial look of shock had passed from both their faces it was replaced by on of concern from Wilson and one of embarrassment from Cameron. She looked down at the trolley, with all the supplies she had laid out ready

"Doctor Wilson, its not as bad as it looks trust me; I just need a couple of stitches and I'll be fine" The tone of her voice was all seriousness, but still carried that strange flat tone that she had adopted of late. He also noticed a slight tremble in her words as she said fine, which showed that she was either in pain or she really wasn't fine.

"Here, let me take a look at it" His voice was so gentle and so full of concern that Cameron wanted to do nothing but be held in his arms as he comforted her. As she thought this, the darkness which sought to claim her rose up within her soul. _You don't deserve his compassion, you don't deserve anyone's compassion. You deserve to hurt. _

Wilson picked up the needle and began to make neat, tight sutures over the deepest cut. He did not say anything, noticing the battle that seemed to be going on within her as she stared at the wall. Noticing how deep the cuts were he frowned. _How did she get her hand in this state?….did she fall or…. _His thoughts broke off as he noticed something within one of the other deep cuts- a shard of glass…_a mirror_. He looked up at her not knowing what to say.

Her eyes were still vacant as he checked the other cuts to make sure they were free of glass fragments, however tiny. Finding only a few more minute pieces he laid them on the table and set back to work, deftly stitching the skin in such a way as to not leave huge scars. She was lucky she hadn't hit any major blood vessels, although looking in the bin beside him suggested that it had bled heavily. He finished the sutures and dressed the hand making sure she could still bend and flex her fingers without damaging the delicate threads.

He slid the chair in front of her, touching her face to get her to focus on him.

"Cameron…Cam..Allison" The use of her first name seemed to wake her from her trance, and she looked him dead in the eye. He was momentarily stunned by the conflicts he saw there- the beauty of her bone structure tainted by the pain in her eyes. This wasn't the same look she gave House when he was rude to her or disregarded her. This was new to him. The puppy dog eyes people were so used to seeing were nothing compared to the raw emotion he saw in those eyes at that moment, and it frightened him. She seemed to realise her error and her eyes clouded over into the content and passionate gaze with which she greeted people everyday. If it wasn't for the dark circles under her eyes and her unnaturally pale skin he would not have believed that anything was wrong.

"Do we have news on Dawn Braith?" Her voice was back to as he had heard it earlier, business-like and formal.

"Um..yes. Aggressive Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma Stage IIB…" He expected to see the downward sad gaze she always adopted when the outlook wasn't good, but instead she looked him straight in the eye

"We should tell her. Have you decided on an appropriate course of treatment?" He cocked his head as he looked at her. _Pretending like this didn't happen_.

"Yes, chemotherapy with simultaneous radiotherapy, but due to the lupus there may be complications… I think we will need to keep her in a clean room during her courses of treatment seeing as she is already immuno-comprimised." She stood up disposing of the waste and pulled a latex glove onto her right hand and tucking another into her lab coat pocket.

"Lets go, she's probably wondering what's going on. Foreman and Chase have started her on Cytoxan to suppress her immune system, but they are worried about the damage to her kidneys after testing her urine. It revealed high amounts of protein, so they are going to do a biopsy later today. It's possible she may need a transplant."

Inside the elevator she turned to him with a concerned look on her face

"You won't tell House about this morning will you?" He couldn't believe that this was once the same doctor who had tears in her eyes talking to him outside of Cindy's room.

"Doctor-Patient confidentiality. Besides it's not on record." He smiled down at her, reassuring her that he would keep his word. They stepped out of the elevator and headed to the room to deliver the news.

If Wilson wasn't concerned before he was now, that look in her eyes had disarmed him, throwing her off balance.

_Her mask has slipped._


	14. Chapter 14

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

She counts her footsteps as she walks to the patient's room.

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

Wilson appears to be saying something in a foreign language, and she lifts her eyes to his lips. They are moving in entrancing shapes, like water disturbed. Unfortunately water does not make sense and so she goes back to counting her footsteps

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

She can feel her hand twinge in response to her movements. It lies dormant under the latex glove she is wearing to protect it. _Hide it._

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

In her mind she sees herself walking, counting.

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

She is separate from the world, and she watches the people move.

_One two, one two, one two, one two, one two….._

This is the rhythm of the moment. Forwards, backwards; one, two.

A hand falls on her shoulder and she doesn't need to turn to see the expression on the face that belongs to the hand. The eyes burn through her soul with kindness that she doesn't deserve.

She puts a broad smile on her face and looks up

"I'm sorry Wilson, what were you saying?" Her voice betrayed her smile, and she knew he could see it

"Look Cameron, if you want me to go and tell her that's fine" She felt a flash of anger behind her eyes at his concern.

"I can do my job" Her voice was steely, and Wilson cocked his head at the change in her voice. They reached the room and stepped over the threshold with suitably comforting expressions on their faces.

"Mrs Braith, I'm afraid we have some bad news"


	15. Chapter 15

Having excused herself from the room Cameron started towards the lab leaving Wilson to comfort Mrs Braith. She had given the patient no false hope; she had stated the survival statistics and the ideal treatment leaving Wilson to more fully explain the cancer treatment. She had done what people always encouraged her to do, distance herself from the patient; so why had Wilson looked at her that way as she excused herself. She had smiled and encouraged the patient, being calm and sensible. _But you didn't care whether she lived or died… _

She shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts that circled her mind like shadows in a drain. Standing by the centrifuge she noticed that it was perfectly calibrated. Someone had been here before her and she clenched her fists, panicked at what she should do next. She had nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. _No other way to escape_. She stepped up, unclenched and set about recalibrating the calibrated. _Funny how things turn out._

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He stood in the shadows watching. Waiting. In order to solve a puzzle you have to see it. Picture it. He cocked his head deep in thought. Allison Cameron was the biggest anomaly he had ever come across; he thought he had her all worked out

"_You live under the delusion that you can fix everything that isn't perfect. That's why you married a man who was dying of cancer. You don't love, you need. And now that your husband is dead, you're looking for your new charity case. That's why you're going out with me. I'm twice your age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming, I'm not even nice. What I am is what you need. I'm damaged."_

He was so sure, so confident that he had solved the puzzle. All the pieces fitted together flawlessly. _I thought I was the only one who lived in shadows. _House watched her shake her head and clenche her fists. He knew she would come here and he had made sure that he took away her source of comfort. The Allison Cameron he knew didn't waste her time on pointless tasks; instead she would seek out some thing useful and helpful to do. He had failed once again, she stood there and started the recalibration and he watched on, knowing that once again he had to watch. Wait.

_The puzzle will be solved._

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Wilson left the room of his newest patient concerned; she had taken it well enough, Cameron had given her all the facts that she needed in one go- clear, concise and very un-Cameron like. Not that that surprised him anymore. He walked on, not knowing exactly where he was going, just walking, walking, walking.

He stopped at a crossroads in the corridor and stood in the middle of the pathway just looking, listening. The day to day commotion of the hospital continued around him, and nobody noticed the doctor standing looking lost in the place he knew better than his own home. _I guess it doesn't always work that way_. He continued on his aimless journey coming to a stop some distance behind the man who lay in shadow. _Funny how in an artificially lit, sterile clean environment he manages to find the shadows._

He stood and watched House, deep in thought staring into the lab. Wilson could guess what had caught his attention, the puzzle with the pieces missing.

_The watcher watches the watcher watches the watched._


	16. Chapter 16

It was dark when Cameron left the hospital and as she stepped outside she was reminded what it was like to breathe fresh air. So much of her time was spent either in her apartment or in the hospital that she was surprised to feel a breeze on her cheeks and the scent of freshly cut grass winding its way through her system. Shutting her eyes she let it drift over her, filling her senses with memories of being a child watching her father cut the lawn as she sat with a book. No cares in the world beyond her life as it was at that moment in time.

_When I was a child, I spake as a child…_

She stopped at the store on the way home and picked up the essentials, milk…crackers…Red Bull… Vodka. Cameron had never been a big drinker until recently- her college days had made her hypersensitive to alcohol and until now she had forgotten the benefits of a few drinks. _It_ _makes the pain go away. _She shook her head in disgust at the thought, thinking like that would get her in more trouble than she needed right now. Shaking her head was a bad idea, everything suddenly spun sideways and she had to grip the display unit to balance herself. Luckily no one was around to see and look with disgust at her basket, and for this she was truly grateful. _Luck is all it is. Luck. _

She approached the checkout with her pathetic load and paid with shaking hands, the banknote fluttering like a butterfly caught in a porcelain statue. Entranced she stared at it seemingly move of its on volition between her fingers; she let it fall, and watched it weave its way past the open hand of the checkout girl down to the polished metal counter where it lay still, moved only by the breeze generated by the movement of people passing by. _The butterfly is dead._

The checkout girl looks at her as if she dropped the note deliberately and snatches it up causing Cameron to wince slightly. She hands Cameron the change without a smile

"Next please."

She moves away carrying her bag of supplies to her car, placing it in the front seat where she can easily see what the butterfly gave her. Laughing at her questionable state of mind she pulls out and heads home to another night of repeats on TV in an empty apartment with an empty fridge belonging to an empty person with an empty heart.

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"She isn't well" Wilson's voice is clear amongst the soft murmurings of the hospital.

"I know." That is all House needs to say and Wilson knows it. If anyone can see self destruction it is House, that wonderfully damaged man. He can see Cameron is hurting, and he can feel it, yet he has no idea how to deal with her pain when he is still fighting his own.

He leaves House brooding in his office, spinning his cane in time with his thoughts. _Forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards. _As he steps outside he feels a shadow of a thought come over him. A breeze on his cheeks and the scent of freshly cut grass winding its way through his system. Shutting his eyes he let it drift over him, filling his senses with memories of being a child watching his father cut the lawn as he sat with a book. No cares in the world beyond his life as it was at that moment in time.

A shake of his head dispels the thought, the scent of grass is replaced by the scent of the city restaurants pervading his thoughts and the wind is still.

_No breeze_.

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It is early morning before he leaves his office, having succumbed to the enticing comfort of his couch. His office is really his second home, and the more stuff he moves in the more he feels safe. Really all it needs now is a piano and he would be sorted_. Could I get a piano brought in under hospital expenses? Cuddy would have a fit…_He mentally files it under 'boredom' for use another day, when he is stuck for things to do and his leg doesn't feel like it is being chewed on by a hungry alligator. He reaches for his vicodin and pops it dry savouring the bitter taste that spreads round his mouth; he needs some sort of punishment for taking so much.

He limps down the corridors he treads everyday, his sneakers squeaking against the all purpose flooring. He walks past the lifts to the stairwell and on a whim he throws his cane down, hearing it ricochet and tumble two flights at least.

Bracing himself on the handrail he begins his torturous descent, each step sending shockwaves through his system. He puts a little more pressure on his bad leg, feeling the burning of the muscle as it struggles to cope with this new action. His thigh complains with every tiny transference of weight from one leg to the other but he makes it down the first flight. Popping another pill he steels himself for another attack, slowly, surely.

All at once the pain has consumed him, out of reach of his cane and alone. He sinks to the steps biting back a cry of pain that is clawing his way up his throat. He cannot cry out, but his body compensates by forcing the bile to rise and the great Gregory House to throw up the contents of his stomach all over the nice shiny floor. He feels what suspiciously seem like tears pricking at his eyes and he punches his good leg trying to distract his brain from the pain in the other. Not succeeding he punches his stomach, the wall, anything to distract himself from the utter feeling of helplessness that he is surrounded by. He knows what he must do.

Using his hands he shuffles himself down on his behind, like a child who has not yet learnt how to walk, and each step fills him with a deeper humiliation than he has ever known. As he reaches his cane he holds it tighter than ever before as he pulls himself up with the handrail in one hand and his cane in the other. He feels numb inside as he walks out of the hospital into the parking lot, and he is suddenly glad he brought the car today.

Pausing he feels a shadow of a thought come over him. A breeze on his cheeks and the scent of freshly cut grass winding its way through his system. Shutting his eyes he let it drift over him, filling his senses with memories of being a child watching his father cut the lawn as he sat with a book. No cares in the world beyond his life as it was at that moment in time.

The moment passes and he smells nothing but the lingering hint of vomit pervading his nostrils and the wind is still.

_No breeze._


	17. Chapter 17

Author note:- Thanks again for the reviews, I'm glad you enjoying it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is one of the penultimate chapters as I would like to draw it to a close, but would like to know if you would be interested in a sequel… anyway continue on…

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It's odd that you can get so anesthetized by your own pain or your own problem that you don't fully share the hell of someone close to you.

-Lady Bird Johnson

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He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to bring some sort of physicality to his thoughts. He pretended that each dull thud against the hardened leather was a gunshot wound, slowly causing him to release the pressure within his mind and body. The thoughts and emotions that he refused to show pooled within him pressing down on his lungs, making it harder to breath and making him numb.

The pressure has built up to such a level that he cannot speak, the pain in his leg and the conflict in his mind fighting for attention and suddenly he cannot bear it any more.

He screams and yells, pushing all of this pressure out into the open. He is lucky he is in a secluded area as his voice is loud even above the stereo. This is one of those moments where he can't be near anyone. No one can see him like this and he despises himself. He pounds his fist against his good leg, leaving bruises for the morning- this is how he escapes when the drugs don't work.

Pressing his forehead against the wheel he closes his eyes and breathes. _In. Out. In. Out. _An alternation between warmth and cold on his lips and he wonders how he came to be here. How he came to be this, and he laughs a cold laugh which wont stop. Full of despair and longing it fills his head, and it is with detachment that he realizes that his cell phone is ringing insistently and he stops his laughter to answer.

"Hello?"

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Wilson was ironing his tie when he got the call. It was the little things he did that made people notice his appearance. During his brief stay at House's apartment he had subversively gone through his closet and ironed every shirt and tie House owned, knowing it probably wouldn't be done again. The cell phone rang breaking through the gentle stream of Sinatra through the speakers, and he made to answer it tripping over a stray shirt as he moved. The phone ceased its ringing just as he found it and it was with a flash of concern that he realized it was Cameron's number which had called him. He redialed, curious as to what she had to say to him this late at night. The dialing tone ceased and was replaced with the sound of breathing

"Cameron? You there?"

"Wilson, I don't….."

This was not like Cameron. Even with this recent shift in personality she was still able to put up a front when talking to someone. Hearing her stumble on those three words was enough to suggest that something was wrong. The tone signaled that she had hung up, and Wilson pulled a jacket on over his T-Shirt and left for her apartment determined to help her in whatever way he could.

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Cameron entered her apartment with her shopping in tow and placed it on the counter. As far as she could see there was little point in unpacking it and she sat down on the couch and leaned her head back against the cushions. Sleep was quick to claim her despite still being in her work suit and heels and she relaxed into the softness and let her mind take over.

She woke to find herself half slumped off the cushions and with her neck aching at the awkward angle at which it had been at rest. Standing slowly she steadied herself with the arm of the chair, kicking off her shoes and unbuttoning the jacket. Looking over at the counter she saw the grocery bag unpacked and resting on its side. _I swear I didn't unpack…I guess I really was tired…_She slides her jacket from her tired shoulders and goes into her room, tossing it onto a chair. Her top is quick to follow and she finds that she only needs the minimum of movement to remove her suit pants; she doesn't even need to undo the fly, and they fall to the floor like the removal of a shroud. Stepping out of her underwear she reaches for the black jogging pants she wears to bed and pulls them on, noting how they now skim much more over her thighs than before. She knows she has lost weight but she doesn't care, it was unintentional and therefore not a problem. _Not like I have an eating disorder or anything…_

Hearing a sound from the other room she pulls on a top and cautiously steps out to see nothing but the curtain billowing at the open window. She goes towards the kitchen and reaches for the cupboard where the vodka is kept, and feels a hand clasp round her mouth and another round her stomach.

She struggles against her captor, thrashing her body around in his iron grip but to no avail; giving up she slumps against him, reserving her energy for the next attempt, but too soon her world goes black and she slips into unconsciousness.

Waking once again she shakes her head to clear it of the cloudy murk that swims behind her eyes, and finds her hands and feet bound as she sits on her bathroom floor with no ideas as to how she got there. She can feel a presence behind her, malevolent and dangerous and she closes her eyes not wishing to see what is holding her there. Footsteps move to the front of her and stop and she feels the face close in to her. Darkness pours through her veins, an evil terrible darkness, and she gasps as it fills her soul. A thousand evils scream through the air and suddenly it is all too much, her eyes open wide and stare into the face of her abuser and she screams from the depth of her soul in the purest form of terror- primal and savage. It rips at the throat of poor Allison Cameron, aged 28, sitting on the tiled floor of her bathroom while her head spins with all the negative emotions in existence; and then just like that she stops.

The unknown person comes into focus and it is the mirror woman she had seen as if in a dream, clenching onto her shoulder with a vice grip. This is strength she has never seen from a woman, and she had been so convinced it was a man who had put her here. The pain gives a focus to the huddled woman tied our on the floor, and she bites back a sob. It is too late that she realizes it is herself as the hand closes around her throat causing her to jerk like a fish out of water struggling for a last breath.

The last thing she sees is the woman caressing her face with a cold hand as her other one clenches around her throat, she is drawn into the smothering darkness and she submits without fighting.

_No fighting anymore._


	18. Chapter 18

Wilson had arrived at the apartment to find Cameron passed out on the floor of her living room still fully dressed in her work clothes. Her skin was white, almost translucent, grey shadows butterflied across her face- wings spreading under her closed eyes with a delicacy reserved for the dead. Wilson pushed this thought away and stooped to lift her off of the floor, feeling each bone through her clothes as he cradled her against his chest as one would treat a sleeping child. Carrying her through to the bedroom he could hear her shallow breathing and feel her tremble from some invisible force seeming to bear down on her- torturing her in her dreams.

He lay Cameron down on the bed, covering her with the blanket which lay folded on the nearby chair, pausing to remove her work shoes from her limp feet. He turned to leave turning back at the sound of her voice breaking through the silence around them

"House….Help me……Please…." Her tone was so soft her words were almost indistinguishable- less than a murmur carried across the room by a series of vibrations. Wilson headed out of the room pulling his cell phone from his pocket; this wasn't a problem that he was supposed to solve.

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As soon as Wilson had finished speaking House had hung up leaving Wilson listening to the empty tone. He didn't know whether this was a sign or one of those destiny things but he sure as hell knew where he had to be. Gregory House was an anomaly in the medical world, but even more so when it came to the real one. He acted out of a need to prove people wrong, to push them to the limits and beyond. After that they needed to fly or fall on their own power and he didn't care what happened. That was what he had always done.

He accelerated as he got onto the main road leading to Cameron's apartment, but couldn't still his thoughts. _Was it me that let her fall? _Self doubt wasn't something that he allowed within the confines of his mind, it lent to mistakes and bad judgement. _You cant allow feelings to get in your way. Not for anyone. _

He had seen her decline over the last few weeks. It wasn't subtle and it wasn't pretty, instead it was brutal. The light in her eyes had dimmed to the point where she looked like a cadaver lying in the classroom rather than the lively young woman he had hired.

This journey was taking far too long. He had failed her because he couldn't see beyond his own fears. She had terrified him, wanted him. It was all too much and in the end she had shown him her pain and it was tearing him apart.

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The hand on her throat had loosened and Cameron found herself once again looking into the mirror whose image haunted her. She couldn't tell whether it was night or day or somewhere in between and she closed her eyes as a flash of pain swept over her. Her head ached and she was shivering despite the warmth of the room. She was sure that the mirror was broken before, though she wasn't quite sure how or why. Nothing much was able to penetrate the thick haze that had settled over her mind, cloaking any logical stream of thought in pain.

Cameron reached out to the glass, her hands somehow unbound. Touching its smooth surface she watched as her reflection copied her every movement with fluid motion, not seeming to break from its determined course. Closing her eyes she felt the cool surface, solid and motionless, her fingers sliding in patterns and codes. Suddenly she felt her fingers smart and tear, looking back at the mirror she could barely make out her reflection amongst the cracked surface. Shards stuck out towards her, their brittle edges glinting with the artificial light cast down on them from above.

In the one complete fragment of the mirror the light was reflected, blinding her. It tore at her eyes and her mind, sending her pain receptors into overdrive. Killing her. Enough. She was too tired to cry or scream. Numbness had saturated her, filling her with nothing but apathy for everything and everyone. Too tired to even be scared of what would happen.

Closing her eyes once more she shielded herself from the pain outside and retreated into herself, shutting out all hope and peace.

_Peace._

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When he arrived at Cameron's apartment he was shaking with barely restrained anger directed solely at himself. The door opened to the sight of Wilson's concerned gaze, his shoulders hunched and his tie askew. He was tired. House had not really understood why Wilson was so involved in all this. As far as he could see it was only a basic relationship dependent on cancer symptoms. He knew Wilson had once expressed concern at Cameron's mental well being over a year ago but since then there had been nothing. There was something more to this, and at any other time in any other situation he would have probed deeper; this time was different. It wasn't his concern.

"Where is she?"

"Bedroom"

He brushed past Wilson and moved as fast as he could towards her bedroom, not even stopping as he knocked against an ill placed table jarring his leg. He grimaced and continued on with the single mindedness he was well known for. As he reached the threshold he placed his hand on the doorknob and cast his eyes down, seeming to gather his strength in this uncertain situation. He pushed open the door and stepped inside his eyes adjusting to the dim light that shadowed the frail childlike form of Allison Cameron. She was tense even in sleep, her eyelids fluttering ever so slightly seeing what he could not imagine.

He moved to sit on the bed so he was as close to her in her sleep as he could never imagine being while awake, the defences gone from around him in an instant. A small movement at the door drew his attention and he turned his head to see Wilson standing hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on this moment in time.

"She was asking for you. Even in her sleep she needs you to save her" Wilson's voice was steady carrying the aura of a man who has seen and understood it all. With that sentence he turned and left. He knew that this was one moment when the friendship of the two men needed no verbal expression. He had to leave House to solve this, the biggest puzzle he had faced. To solve this would be to solve the part of himself he had never confronted before.

House heard the main door to the apartment shut softly and he cast his eyes upon her sleeping form once more, watching her chest rise and fall to the rhythm of her breathing. _What does she run from in her dreams? _House kicked off his shoes and repositioned himself so that he was lying parallel to her on top of the blanket. Taking her hand in his he could have sworn he felt her hand gently fold around his in such a natural movement that it was as if they had done it before, he had certainly done so in his dreams. He closed his eyes letting the darkness wash over him in tides and hearing the sounds of his breathing join with hers. Sleep came quickly and he could not quite remember a time when he felt so at home in the company of another, her presence relaxing every muscle in his body, taking away his pain. Drawing him to sleep.

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She could feel him now; the cool calm presence pervaded her mind, dulling the pain that threatened to consume her. It was enough that he was here in her mind, fighting off the evils that lurked in the shadows. Substance blurred and she opened her eyes to find herself in her bedroom, but she was not alone. The sounds of another's breathing stirred her mind into thought, but she knew she must not be afraid. He had come and he was beside her, their hands connected in sleep as they never would be in the waking world. She closed her eyes once again and drifted back into her dream world knowing that she had the strength to fight off any harm that would come her way.


	19. Chapter 19

When the priest had come to the mausoleum to wake Juliet he had not expected to see what lay before his eyes. The two lovers lay side by side in an unending sleep, together in death as they could never be in life.

It was the same for this couple. Starcrossed lovers fighting fate and succeeding only in the realm of sleep. If we were to look upon this scene we would have to note with some degree of sadness that morning must come and they both must wake once again.

The wonderful thing about sleep is it comes round again and again for all eternity. Whether they will find their paths is one thing, but whether they lead to the same destination is another.

For now they will sleep, still as death, but with all the warmth of life which courses through their veins. Tomorrow will come, the sun will rise, and change will be inevitable. For now however they must sleep and dream away their fears, waking only when they are safe from shadows which pursue all who have fallen or strayed from their path.

This is life. This is death. This is the unknown.


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